


For Who So Firm

by zempasuchil



Category: Historical RPF
Genre: American History, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-29
Updated: 2006-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:16:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zempasuchil/pseuds/zempasuchil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"For who so firm that cannot be seduced?" - Cassius, Act I/Scene 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Who So Firm

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [坚定如彼|For Who So Firm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5911966) by [elanor_BleuNoir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elanor_BleuNoir/pseuds/elanor_BleuNoir)



_These are the three greatest men the world has ever produced: Isaac Newton, Francis Bacon, John Locke._

A smirk, a long pause. An anticipatory flush spread on the back of Thomas Jefferson's neck.

_But Julius Caesar was greater than all three._

He furrowed his brow, appalled, disgusted.

The irony was that Thomas would have chosen the noble Brutus over ambitious Caesar, and Alexander would have pointed out the flaw: that Brutus was a traitor of the worst sort, however well-intentioned. Brutus, keeping companionship with Judas Iscariot in the cold heart of Dante's Inferno. Brutus, whose was the unkindest cut of all.

Thomas knew this would have happened, could see it by the somehow dignified smirk on Alexander's face. Laughter and triumph.

_You haven't won anything yet, young Alexander._

-

 _President Washington merely humors your proposals because of his personal fondness for his old Aide de Camp. -_ T. Jefferson  
__  
Does Washington's approval discredit my plans in your eyes? You accuse the most moral man in the nation of acting upon bias when yours is the most obvious. - A. Hamilton  
__  
All men are susceptible to bias; surely you would agree. I do not accuse him of corruption, but I accuse you of exploiting any weakness you may find, even in our honored President, all to further your own self-interested politics. - T. Jefferson  
__  
I may be a politician, and I may be self-interested - self-interest governs all men, Mr. Jefferson, in case you have not noticed - but I put my country's interests above my own. I realize that what I may see as a perfect government may not work for this country; I would hope that you may trust my judgement on this, but I know that you refuse to trust anything that has its roots with me, regardless of any independent reason or virtue. - A. Hamilton  
__  
I am appalled and indignant! You make me to be an irrational man. - T. Jefferson  
_  
Men often oppose a thing merely because they have had no agency in planning it, or because it may have been planned by those whom they dislike. In truth, Mr. Jefferson, you use ration as it suits you; otherwise you disregard it entirely. -_ A. Hamilton

-

Each day that went by while Congress weighed, considered, and carried out Hamilton's atrocious proposals, Thomas grew more and more bitter. He tried to convince Washington of the adverse affects Alexander's plans would have, but Adams was right, and Washington was, after all, a stubborn old muttonhead. But there was no better man for President than George Washington, and perhaps there never would be. Thomas only wished he would reign in his impetuous, ambitious Secretary of the Treasury.

_The President must placate you as my plans are carried out by Congress. You are impeding an expedient government, Mr. Jefferson, betraying the people's well-being by attempting to halt the construction of the sturdy foundation of a nation's fiscal organization. Acting on the beliefs of a single man, you betray your democratic compulsion._

And what would Mr. Hamilton care, but to catch Mr. Jefferson in yet another condemning inconsistency? This was enough reason to actively oppose the man: he sought to discredit the proponents of the noblest concepts upon which his very own adopted nation was founded. Like a parasite, the man sought to benefit from his country at the expense of its well-being.

It was clear to him that Alexander was the envious Cassius, perverting reason to suit his covetous cause. Thomas knew that none of the tragedy's characters were virtuous, but all self-serving in the end.

-

No matter their political differences, Thomas, on principle, admired Alexander's personal qualities. His determination, however ruthless; the honesty of his character, his boldness. But the qualities of his ambitions were twisted and faulty, his intentions pure but the means entirely backwards - it was fortunate a man such as he would never be eligible for the Presidency. Thomas shuddered at the prospect of such ruin into which he could bring the nation.

 _Hamilton is really a colossus... Why, he doth bestride the narrow world, and of we petty men? Is there any grave that is not dishonorable?_ Bitterly, this passed through Thomas' mind, only relieved by the image of that tree of liberty, the only honorable death for him.

Despite his honorable character, Hamilton's ambition overshadowed all. Hell, indeed, is paved with such good intentions as his.

-

Despite all their arguments, all of Thomas' carefully considered political philosophy, construction of a base of opposition to Hamilton's elitists, all his skilled and moving writing, Thomas began to realize that his efforts had all been in vain. Hamilton was winning, had already won, and showed no sign of stopping. Brutus would lose the battle.

The funding and assumption of state debts, the excise tax and the show of federal strength at the farmers' rebellion that could not be found, the establishment of a national bank - all had been accomplished, thoroughly accomplished. And that despicable report on manufactures would continue to influence political and economic thought far into the future. Thomas could not prevent that, but he could do his best to fight for liberty as long and hard as possible. He could only hope it would be enough, and that Hamilton would come to realize the error of his ways before he had damaged the country beyond repair.

In his distress he wrote to John Adams, who replied in light of Thomas' despair in his own efforts:

_No, Thomas, not in vain. Perhaps misguided, perhaps your fruit have grown in ways you never intended, but never have your efforts gone to waste._

However that may be, intent was everything, was it not? The idea that his efforts to hinder Hamilton's agenda may inadvertently help the villain sickened Thomas.

He could only trust to Providence.

-

Whatever men's intentions, in the fifth act Antony is victorious, avenging his fallen Caesar. And Brutus and Cassius, however noble they may be, are no more. Everyone knows the story, because it is not only Shakespeare, it is solid and well-established history.

History has a way of repeating itself.

The only way to quell these fears was to ignore them. And so Thomas did, trying to forget the epic parallels, burying his head and hating himself for failing to recognize this course of events sooner. Hating himself for ever doubting his cause, the cause of Liberty and Democracy.

-

"I came to offer my congratulations on being awarded the Presidency."

Thomas was one the one hand, surprised - he hardly expected to see Alexander Hamilton here, alone, on his drawing-room sofa - and on such a cordial visit. He would never expect any visit at all. On the other hand, he cynically dwelled: on the other hand, Alexander's cause to rejoice was only in the victory of the man he considered the lesser of two great evils. Not only this, but his own victory, in assuring Burr's defeat. It reeked to Thomas of something suspicious, surreptitious, prideful.

"Why come at all? It is no secret, our enmity. I do not understand your visit myself."

"I found myself in your general area upon hearing the news, and decided upon a brief congratulations as it would be the gentlemanly thing to do." It could not be too brief for Thomas. Still, gentlemanly standards demanded courteous behavior as a host, and so he rang for one of his maids, requesting two glasses of wine.

When it came, Alexander graciously accepted and sipped it. "A fine vintage," he proclaimed with a curl of his lips. Thomas merely nodded into his own glass, commenting emptily, "Good wine is a necessity of life for me," refusing to meet his visitor's polite but mocking eyes.

-

"And these," he once again found himself saying, "are the three greatest men the world has ever produced."

Behind him, Alexander said nothing, but Thomas felt his words filling the air as though uttered. Julius Caesar and Great Britain. The tyrants, that would have been and were, the betrayed and defeated. The great and once-great. But Alexander lived, and Alexander was great - great and terrible, but undeniably great.

Thomas would not look at him - _I have nothing but scorn for this man,_ he reminded himself, though he felt Alexander's radiance as if it were heat from a fierce flame. _He is an enemy at heart._

-

If Thomas did not shift his eyes from the portraits, he would not have to look at Alexander. _Ridiculous obstinacy just waiting to be contested_ \- and it surprised him that he meant himself. Entirely illogical, this whole thing - perhaps Adams was right and his methodology was flawed, perhaps Alexander was right and his self-perception was skewed by his constant need to be right - but that would be admitting defeat, and Thomas could not do that. He wished he had the discipline of Franklin, the steadfast morality of Washington, the common sense of Paine or the good sense of Madison. He wished he were anyone but weak-voiced Thomas Jefferson.

"You admire all the wrong people, Mr. President. The French, the poor farmers, the idealists. Pragmatism is what a country needs. The wise man built his house upon the rock, and not the shifting sands of public opinion." Though Thomas still refused to meet Alexander's eyes, their mischievous glint was clearly audible.

"Mr. Hamilton, I could say the same to you. Your adoration for the British is fairly disgusting in such political climates as these. We should like to be rid of British influence, every speck of it, forever."

"That is where your error lies, I fear. The British are to be imitated, as their nation has prospered through their government's success in governing the affairs of the people."

"But not in America, my good sir, which is why there was a revolution." He wished the man would simply leave.

"That is no reason to rid America of every speck. Would you trust a farmer to understand the successes of Britain, when he is so biased against the country? I hardly trust you to understand them for the same reasons, despite the fine education your upbringing has bought you."

Thomas stiffened. "It is impossible to seriously consider what you propose when you have said yourself that man only acts upon his own interest." He finally looked away from the painting and at Alexander, fed up with the man's blatant baiting. He was surprised to find the younger man smiling playfully, almost predatory, eyes narrowed over catlike cheekbones.

"It is entirely possible; in fact, it is advisable." Was the man closer? His smile looked closer. Thomas felt in need of air, mentally turned in circles. He should have drank less wine and eaten more dinner, taken off his coat in the heat, shown Hamilton the door long ago. "Consider it because there are times when two men have a common interest."

For the first time in a long while, Thomas found himself grasping desperately for words that would not come and instead, focusing on Alexander's lips, finding nowhere else to look.

Alexander lifted Thomas' chin so that the older man looked him in the eye and saw that purposeful, steely glint, just as their lips met. Thomas was captured. Alexander, Antony; they would win every contest.

 _But then,_ he thought, as he pressed Alexander to the portrait-bearing wall, fingering his lace cravat, _if two men have a common interest, any means to the end is desirable._

_If two men have a common interest, they both are victorious._

-

They stood among brown rows of plants, dust settling at their feet. It was an unusually dry season, as Alexander's withered plot made obvious.

"Your wife's?"

"Would my wife grow turnips?"

"Your cook's, then?"

Alexander laughed. "My own. A garden, you know, is a very usual refuge of a disappointed politician. I might well be turning from my dirty politics, to become one of your beloved agrarians, Thomas. What say you to that?"

Thomas had already seen the dilapidated, dying state of the square plot. "You are a politician at heart, Mr. Hamilton; I do not believe you have the dedication to the soil necessary to the temperament of the farmer."

Another smile, this one ironic. "You may be right. But I intend to succeed."

Those flowers on the trellis, bright and open, they were his wife's and well-tended. Thomas could instruct the man in the husbandry of earth but suspected - no, knew - his words would not be heeded. Instead, he bent, stiffly, and lifted the drooping head of peony. "I wish you the best success in your agricultural endeavor, Alexander." They both heard clearly what he said, what he did not say.

"And not success in all my endeavors?" Lifting clematis to the black of Thomas' coat, Alexander's voice was low and clear, serious in tone but Thomas knew what they both knew, what the response would be, that it would never change. The indigo petals seemed to glow against their dark backdrop, then brushed a stray whisp of Thomas' silvered hair, lightly touching the skin below his jaw. Lips followed, Thomas shivered, reaching a low hand for a slight curve of waist - and then, gone, Alexander walking away from him and to the house, calling behind him, "Your horses are rested, Mr. Jefferson. I trust you wish to return to the capitol as soon as possible."

"Yes. Yes, I must leave, to arrive this evening. Thank you."

"It is no trouble."

But Thomas felt troubled, and to this there seemed no end.

-

The end was sudden but not unexpected; political and personal contest between two rash and prideful men was sure to have grown into something larger, Thomas thought. Fools, the both of them. Damn fools.

"Why did you do it?"

"I love my country, and I hate Aaron Burr. He stinks of ambition, the worst kind."

Thomas knew his reasons; what he wanted was to understand them. "And he challenged you to a duel, and you have accepted his challenge." He fought to conceal his fury, his disgust, his feeling that this folly was inevitable and his sorrow at that fact. Fixing his eyes on his paperwork, his insides roiled, knowing that to look up would unleash these rampant emotions and he could not afford such an explosion, such a display.

"I could not refuse." So simply he spoke, with boldness and, Thomas imagined, sadness. An apology? Never.

Thomas wanted to say a million things more - _What good is honor to a dead man? What good is a dead man to his country?_

_Dead, what good are you to me?_

For what grave is there, that is not dishonorable?

Instead he finally looked up to Alexander, just as the man turned to leave, and felt his thoughts tumble out. "Our country needs you. The Federalists at least need you. Your party, your family... I need you. Your President asks you to apologize, and refuse the duel." Please stay. "For all our sakes, do not be so stupid."

Alexander looked back, and grinned, laughter in his eyes. It was a light in the dark study. "I will not die."

"You will not fire, Alexander." This was obvious - painfully so, Thomas found. "Burr will kill you for vengeance."

"I know." Still smiling - sadly now, Thomas thought - he left, a shadow in the doorway. "I will not die."

"You are a fool, Alexander Hamilton," Thomas whispered, glaring at his letters. "A damned tragic fool." He blinked, quickly swallowed the lump in his throat, and took his quill from the inkwell once more.

-

Upon the news of Mr. Hamilton's death, Mr. Jefferson's maid was bewildered by her master's unsurprised behavior, and his subsequent remark. "He was a Caesar, moreso than any man I have known," he said, eyes bright with what could have been anger or sadness; she could not tell which. "But this I concede - Caesar may have been the greatest of all, if his life had not been stolen away by those more corrupt than he."

**Author's Note:**

> Things that are true historical facts which I researched on the internet:
> 
> "Men often oppose a thing merely because they have had no agency in planning it, or because it may have been planned by those whom they dislike." - Hamilton
> 
> "There is no act, however virtuous, for which ingenuity may not find some bad motive." - Jefferson
> 
> "Good wine is a necessity of life for me." - Jefferson (attributed)
> 
> "A garden, you know, is a very usual refuge of a disappointed politician. Accordingly, I have purchased a few acres about nine miles from town, have built a house, and am cultivating a garden." - Hamilton, in a letter to Charles Cotesworth Pinckney (29 December 1802)
> 
> "Hamilton is really a colossus... without numbers, he is a host unto himself." - Thomas Jefferson
> 
> \- Hamilton's failure of a garden
> 
> \- Jefferson's "three greatest men" scene, with Hamilton's Caesar rebuttal.
> 
> \- muttonhead Washington
> 
> \- Jefferson professed to admire Hamilton's character in his Anas


End file.
